129. Shit, but not as I know it

R has been taking a bit of a back seat in this blog lately.  With me, no news is very much good news.  So his reappearance ISN’T good news.  As I’ve mentioned, he stopped coming to my appointments with me a while ago. The last one he came to, I practically had to beg him to come.  He’d forgotten I’d asked him specifically to go with me and had arranged to meet a friend instead.  He was really arsy with me about my wanting him there and made it clear in his attitude, what he was saying and what he was doing (namely, NOT cancelling or changing his plans for me).  Fortunately, his friend changed their plans so he was able to come but his selfishness hurt and I determined not to ask him again.   

So flashback to my second genetics appointment.  I’d had the letter so knew pretty much the prognosis.  I have variations to my BRCA1 gene which means I’m probably predisposed to more cancer. I also know that to reduce my risk of new cancers (as opposed to a recurrence of the old cancer) that certain surgery is recommended.  Before I get the metro to the hospital, I ask R if he wants to come.  He doesn’t.  On the way, I send him a message saying ‘On my own.  Again.’  When I get back, we bicker about it.  He says that if I want him to go, I should ask.  I tell him that he should WANT to go.  That I would want to if it was him.  As he would want to if he cared about me.  We left it there.  Impasse.  He’s a selfish git. 

Since then I’ve had oncologist appointments, appointments with my surgeon, a biopsy done (clear), 20 X radiotherapy, appointments with the radiotherapy Dr and plastic surgery appointments.  None of which he’s come to.  Two of which friends have come to with me, which STILL hasn’t shamed him into any interest.  We’re still a proper couple, but now, this lack of concern, of care, of interest, of LOVE is in the back of my mind.   

But still.  He knows what I’ve had done.  He was there for the initial diagnosis.  He knows it can come back.  He knows I’m facing huge surgery.  He knew I hated chemo and was terrified of it, although I suspect he thought I was a wimp.  So he really should understand how all encompassing, terrifying and completely controlling it all was.   

Problem.  We’re driving home from a nice late afternoon in the pub.  I mention that he’d promised to give up smoking when I went on a diet and started losing weight.  Which I am (thank GOODNESS!).  He is silent.  I nag some more.  We stop at the traffic lights.  He eyes me, tells me he is killing himself biting his tongue (he’s the least tactful person I’ve ever met – really).  I continue to nag him, more in play than anything.  I know that really, you have to be completely in the right frame of mind to do stuff like that.  Then he hits me.  ‘I didn’t say anything last year when I gave up (smoking) for 5 months and you were on chemo.’  The implication is that while I was putting on weight from the steroids that were stopping me from turning my body inside out from vomiting, he was silently being critical of my weight gain.  Then he says ‘And now you’re going to pull the cancer card.’  

Instant silence.  My mouth is hanging open.  This person loves me?  

We get back to his.  I go upstairs to the loo, collect my things, get the stuff I was going to make for dinner out of the fridge and leave.